


Silent Night

by Mad_Mage



Series: Mage's Christmas specials 2019 [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, Attraction, Beware of wolf packs, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Older Man/Younger Woman, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:13:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21757342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Mage/pseuds/Mad_Mage
Summary: Sansa hoped that no one in the house had seen her bold move. It would be pretty hard to explain to her mother what she had been doing, kissing Deputy Bolton and squeezing the life out of him on the Starks’ driveway.---Christmas AU featuring unplanned attraction, well-meaning meddlesome parents and a little bit of Christmas mystery surrounding the always brooding sheriff’s deputy.
Relationships: Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Roose Bolton/Sansa Stark
Series: Mage's Christmas specials 2019 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567441
Comments: 44
Kudos: 107





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the second of Mage’s Christmas specials! This one is Roose/Sansa and I hope you’ll enjoy reading it :)  
> \---  
> Disclaimer: Nothing’s mine, I’m just a poor mad mage.

After she had finally managed to get through security checks and find her luggage, Sansa was exhausted. Now she only needed to avoid being trampled by the herd of people rushing to the nearest exit.

Collapsing on a cold metal seat near the bathrooms, she decided to wait for the crowds to disperse. There was no way she was going to try and get out of the building with so many people attempting the same.

She forgot how busy the Wintertown airport got around Christmas. There were really only two northern airports that remained open through the winter months: Wintertown and White Harbor, and both were usually bursting with people trying to get north of the Neck.

Sansa snickered and thought about Arya and Robb, who were arriving home only three days before Christmas. _That_ would be a nightmare.

Sighing, she pulled out her phone and checked the messages. Oh, great. Her mum couldn’t pick her up because Rickon had eaten four colored chalks (Bran had dared him to do it), spent the last thirty minutes throwing up and they were currently on their way to the hospital. Dad wasn’t off duty until seven. That meant that Sansa’s only available means of transport was Jon – and there was no way she would willingly get into a car with him behind the wheel.

The last time she had done so, they ended up in a lake.

She glanced around, trying to determine if it would be safe to re-join the crowds, and caught a glimpse of a man in a uniform. Was Dad picking her up after all? That would be a nice surprise.

Standing up, she got on her toes and looked intently in the direction of the exit.

Yes! There he was, making his way through the throng effortlessly. People seemed to part before him, getting out of his way as quickly as they could. He had the uniform jacket on and his hat shielded his face.

“Dad! Dad! Over here!” Sansa beamed and started to wave.

He heard her, pausing, and raised his head. Just a moment before she got to see his face, Sansa realized that the man couldn’t be her father. While the guy had a similar build to Ned Stark – all law enforcement seemed to be heavily built – he was slightly shorter and stockier than her father, and it took her only a moment to recognize him.

Even though she knew whose face to expect, Sansa let out an involuntary gasp when he gazed straight at her. His eyes widened momentarily in surprise and she blushed and berated herself for suddenly thinking how striking those eyes were.

Hoping that he hadn’t heard her gasp, she waved with the same enthusiasm as before and called with a small grin, “Deputy Bolton! Hi!”

His expression remained stoic as he nodded in greeting. Then he frowned at the people rushing past him and pushed through them, jaw set in annoyance.

“Hello, Sansa,” he said and reached toward her with his right hand. “I hope you’re not waiting here for too long. Ready to go?”

Sansa grasped it and they shook hands. His palm was warm and rough – a startling contrast to his soft voice and usually cold demeanor – and his grip was firm.

“So, you’re my drive home, then?” she asked with another big smile. Sansa couldn’t stop the grin even if she tried. It had been so long since she had seen Deputy Bolton – three or four years, actually – and he had always been her favorite among Dad’s colleagues. It would be so nice to get reacquainted with him.

While Manderly and Cassel still liked to treat her as a child – which she hadn’t been for some years – Deputy Bolton had always talked to her as he would to a normal person. He hadn’t teased her and he hadn’t made fun of her and he hadn’t given her a ridiculous nickname even though he had known her since Sansa had been ten.

She also remembered Deputy Bolton’s dry sense of humor – it was so different from the infantile jokes of the rest of her family and friends that she found herself missing it more than once during family gatherings. No one could insult another person looking all polite and serious like Deputy Bolton and Sansa had enjoyed listening to him on many occasions.

“Yes.” He said. His tone was neutral but he was eying her curiously as if she were a stranger. Well, four years were four years. She sure hoped that she had done a bit of growing up during that time. Finishing university should help people with that, right?

Sansa returned the favor as subtly as she was able – which wasn’t much – but she made an extra effort not to ogle him too obviously. Deputy Bolton had more lines around his eyes than she remembered and deep shadows underneath them that spoke of long sleepless nights. There was something etched into every contour of his face that made her shiver and it took her a moment to recognize it.

It was grief. It lurked just under the surface of his gaze, ever-present and all-consuming.

What had happened? Her first impulse was to reach out and grab his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. Her second was to hug him. Thank the gods she managed to suppress both.

On closer inspection, he looked dead on his feet; pale and worn and with hollow cheeks. Coming to think of it, while he was still slightly stockier than Dad, Deputy Bolton seemed to be thinner than Sansa had ever seen him. His face was covered in a several-day growth of stubble that ironically gave him a somehow more approachable look.

Would it be as soft to the touch as it looked? What a stupid question. It didn’t really matter, she doubted that he would let her touch his beard.

The man was tired out, for gods’ sake, not to mention that he was Dad’s friend and colleague and his sons were only a few years younger than Sansa herself. She wasn’t really sure how old Deputy Bolton was – but she really shouldn’t be thinking about his pretty sad eyes and soft beard. What would be next? Wondering what’s beneath that uniform?

He definitely wasn’t hard on the eyes even as exhausted as he seemed to be. So, it couldn’t hurt to look, right? Sansa now regretted her teenage crush on Mr. Clegane, her brothers’ shooting instructor. Deputy Bolton seemed a much better choice – a pity she hadn’t spent those long summers mooning over him.

Now she didn’t have any excuse for being this silly and she should already know better than that. Her track record for the last four years spoke for itself: Oberyn (who wasn’t so bad, actually), Petyr (bloody creep) and Dickon (that name should have warned her). Not to mention the horrible mistake of ever dating Joff.

“Your father was buried under a mountain of paperwork and asked me to pick you up. Not that there was much else to do until the end of my shift anyway,” he continued, looking at her intently, his eyes slightly softening. The melancholy around him seemed to disperse. Poof, as if something had pierced it like a bubble. She knew – she was busy staring into his eyes, captivated, like an idiot. Oh, gods, he hadn’t just noticed her staring, had he? Of course, he had. Sansa wasn’t that subtle and he wasn’t dumb.

“It’s one of those busy days, huh?” Sansa chuckled nervously but she wasn’t able to avert her eyes away. What was wrong with her? And why would he stare at her with such an expression of interest?

“Yes,” he said, breaking the eye-contact by picking up her luggage. “There’s too much snow for people to go outside and do something stupid. I haven’t arrested anyone in two weeks.”

His voice was serious, as was the expression on his face, but she laughed anyway and shook her head as she followed him.

“That bad? You must be dying of boredom.”

“Perhaps it will get better now that most of your lot is getting back here. The Starks never fail to entertain.” He glanced over his shoulder once and focused on maneuvering them toward the exit. People got out of their way almost subconsciously – Deputy Bolton had that effect on people – and if they didn’t, he glared at them until they hurried away.

Sansa realized that she had been admiring his broad shoulders for some time when they finally made their way outside. It was snowing heavily and the air was freezing – a typical winter day in the North.

The sheriff’s car was waiting for them and Deputy Bolton lengthened his stride and hauled her luggage into the trunk, his jacket sliding away and revealing the gun on his belt.

Sansa tripped at the sight – but she completely ignored the gun. What was hiding under that shirt of his was much more interesting to her. Losing a bit of weight did wonders for him. Oh, bloody hell, here it was again! Sansa cursed inwardly, shook her head and reached the car just as he had made it to the passenger side.

“My lady,” he said with a slight upturn of his lips as he opened the door and offered his hand in assistance. The gesture and that smile were so unexpected that Sansa was momentarily speechless.

She accepted the help and slid into the car, beaming up at him. “How courteous, my lord. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He smirked – really smirked. Holding her hand for a second longer before shutting the door, he rounded the car and sat behind the wheel. Sansa felt her cheeks heat up and wished that he would not comment on her behavior because there was no way that he hadn’t noticed. Was he going to tease her like any other of Dad’s colleague would do?

Sansa hadn’t been prepared in the slightest to suddenly realize that Deputy Bolton was a good-looking guy. Why hadn’t she noticed before? Oh, right. Because he was around her father’s age and Sansa’s brain had put him into the category of other fatherly figures. Just one look into his eyes this afternoon had suddenly moved him into the category of fuckable males, though.

Damn. Inwardly groaning, Sansa took a deep breath and resolutely refused to meet his gaze when still slightly smirking Deputy Bolton asked, “Everything alright?”

Cocky bastard. Sansa’s only hope was that Deputy Bolton would take mercy on her and spare her more embarrassment. She needed to come up with a way how to get out of that mess. Perhaps talking about something – anything – else would help? She closed her eyes, trying to think about a suitable conversation topic.

The ride to Winterfell, their small sleepy town, was over much sooner than she hoped; her exhaustion had finally hit her full force and Sansa dozed off before she could strike up any sort of conversation with Deputy Bolton.

She woke up to a warm earthy smell that reminded her of pine trees. Then was Deputy Bolton suddenly touching her shoulder gently and speaking in a soft tone, “Sansa? Sansa, you’re home.”

It took her a moment to understand what was going on. Sansa had to blink once or twice before she could focus on her companion. His face was expressionless as he was leaning slightly toward her, but his eyes seemed warmer than usual, brighter somehow.

To her surprise, he was the source of that pleasant scent.

Her breath hitched and she swallowed and averted her gaze. It was so unfair that someone could have eyes and voice like that. Or smell so nice. Or be so well-built.

“Oh, gods, I’m sorry I fell asleep on you. I swear I planned on having an actual conversation with my favorite deputy!” she said. Had she just called him her favorite deputy? Yeah. She let out a small laugh, quickly adding, “I’m a terrible company today, I’m afraid.”

“No need to apologize.” Deputy Bolton leaned back, his lips turning upward for a moment. “Perhaps we can talk some other time soon.”

“I’d like that.” The words were out before Sansa could stop them and she could swear that his smile widened before it disappeared completely and he only nodded. Was he… was he actually suggesting a date? Or had Sansa completely lost it?

Gods, that man was so infuriating with his cool politeness and good manners and that hidden smile in the corners of his mouth.

Without another word, Deputy Bolton then got out of the car, helped her with her luggage once more and turned to bid her goodbye.

Sansa had spent those several moments seriously contemplating the man and her confusing thoughts about him. Honestly, he had no right to affect her so and it just wouldn’t do. She wanted to throw him out of kilter for once. If his response would be adequate, she could be brave enough to ask him out. But those games? She was not playing them. Petyr’s games had been quite enough for her, thanks.

As he faced her with that polite unreadable face of his, Sansa stepped close to him and wrapped her arms around him. Deputy Bolton wasn’t much taller than her, so she didn’t have any trouble when she leaned in and kissed his cheek, her lips lingering as she breathed in the scent of his cologne. His stubble was just as soft as she had thought it was and his skin was warm to the touch.

“Thank you so much for your assistance, Deputy Bolton,” she whispered and then took a step back. This time, it was Sansa who was observing him very closely, cataloging his reactions.

He stood there stock-still for a moment, snowflakes gathering on his hat and shoulders. His face was bewildered and his pupils blown wide. Then his gaze sharpened and he zoomed in on her. There was something almost predatory in his eyes now.

“It was my pleasure,” he repeated, his voice smooth and deep.

“Maybe we can catch up later? Say, tomorrow around five at Café Plus?” Sansa said casually even though her heart was beating wildly and the more rational part of her brain was screaming at her to stop. He was her father’s friend! Had she lost her mind? Maybe she had. Split-second decisions had usually ended badly for her.

“Perhaps we can.” Deputy Bolton agreed smoothly, touched the brim of his hat and nodded at her. “Until tomorrow, then.”

She watched him as he got in the car and drove off with a small smile, feeling unexpectedly giddy. She couldn’t regret asking him out, not with those eyes, no. Then she grabbed her suitcase and braved the freshly fallen snow covering the path to the house. It looked like Bran had forgotten to clear the driveway, as usual.

Sansa hoped that no one in the house had seen her bold move. It would be pretty hard to explain to her mother what she had been doing, kissing Deputy Bolton on the cheek and squeezing the life out of him on their driveway amidst the falling snow.

One thing she knew for certain: she’s in for an interesting Christmas this year.


	2. The Trouble with Well-Meaning Sheriffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned Stark pokes his nose into something that is definitely not his business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I proudly present to you the second part. Hope you’ll have fun :)

Sansa had conveniently forgotten how loud the house could get. Jon had his own place but he often visited, especially so close to holidays, and her three brothers managed to drive Sansa crazy in a manner of minutes. She spent most of the morning and the better part of the afternoon either yelling at them or laughing with them as they all decorated the house. She would start strangling them in a day or two with Christmas lights. When Arya and Robb would arrive, all hell would break loose. It would be an all-out war.

How Mum hadn’t gone mad was beyond her.

“What are you doing?” asked Rickon when she rushed into the kitchen. “You’re supposed to help us with these!”

Sansa was clutching her small bag in one hand while she was trying to wrap her knitted scarf around her neck with the other. She turned to look at them, crowding the kitchen table with smudges of almond paste on their faces. Jon and Bran stopped stuffing their faces with the gingerbread hearts they were supposed to decorate and looked up.

“Oh! She’s going out!” stage whispered Jon. There were still fir needles and fake snowflakes in his hair.

“Out?” repeated Rickon and grimaced. “Like a date? Who would ask Sansa out?”

“A blind guy?” offered Bran and all three of them started howling with laughter.

“Haha, very funny.” Sansa threw one of her famous deadly glares their way, slammed her bag on the desk and proceeded to adjust her scarf. “How do I look?”

“Like Christmas threw up on you?” offered Rickon and sniggered with Bran.

She stopped and glanced down at her. She didn’t, did she? There wasn’t anything wrong with a silvery sweater. It was winter and they were in the North. Sweaters were perfectly reasonable clothes to wear. Was it the scarf?

“Nah, you look nice,” said Jon and glared at his younger brothers. “I can’t see jingle bells or other decorations on you, so you’re fine.”

“Thanks.” They shared a brief smile and Jon nodded.

“So, who’s the poor guy?” asked Bran seriously next. He was turning fifteen soon and was a Stark through and through which meant that he was becoming rather protective of his family. Seeing that Arya refused to act like a girl, all their brothers turned their protective attention to Sansa.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Yeah? Does Dad know you’re going out with someone?”

“What if it’s a girl?” said Rickon.

“Whatever! I think Dad would be interested in it either way!”

As the conversation took an unexpected turn when the brothers started debating how Dad would react if Sansa was really going out with another girl, she huffed in annoyance. Idiots. Seeing her opportunity to escape without answering more questions, Sansa turned on her heel and left. That was enough brotherly affection for now.

Oh, great, she was going to be late! 

Sansa managed to arrive only five minutes late and stopped at the window of Café Plus to look for Deputy Bolton first. She had spent half of the night thinking about the million reasons why this was a bad idea but when the morning had come, she had been still excited and giddy and looking forward to seeing him again.

She blamed his eyes, she really did, and the melancholy that had clung to him so strongly and had made her pay him more attention.

She glanced inside the window and smiled involuntarily. Deputy Bolton was sitting at a small table for two facing the door. He was leaning back in his seat, relaxed, but his expression was dark and brooding and he was frowning at his hands, which were clasped in front of him at the table.

The smile left Sansa’s face as she was struck with an uncomfortable thought. Did he already regret that he had agreed to see her? Maybe she was wrong. Maybe he had been just surprised to see her and there hadn’t been anything more to his curious staring.

Sansa was usually pretty good at recognizing when a guy liked her and she had thought… No, stop it. It was pointless to mull over it and she was so done with trying to guess what men thought.

She shook her head and went to the door.

Deputy Bolton raised his head when the little bell above the door chimed. Sansa was looking at him from the moment she stepped through and heaved a sigh of relief. His expression changed – the scowl disappeared and that same soft look from yesterday entered his eyes.

She beamed at him and gave him a little wave, saying hi to Sam behind the bar.

As she made her way to Deputy Bolton’s table, he rose from his seat and moved to pull out a chair for her. Before she could change her mind, she clasped his right hand and then she hugged him. It was only a quick half-embrace, they were in public after all – and then there was Sam, Jon’s best friend, who curiously watching them.

“Hi, Deputy Bolton! Sorry, I’m late. I couldn’t escape the Christmas decoration spree at our house.”

“Catelyn is a hard taskmaster,” he said. Then he took a deep breath and glanced away from her for a brief moment. “I honestly didn’t expect you to come, though.”

He waited until Sansa collapsed into her chair in shock before he returned to his seat. His face was impassive but she noticed how he fisted his hand before he pulled it under the table.

“Why wouldn’t I? _I_ asked _you_ out.”

“There are probably around a million reasons why you shouldn’t be sitting here with me, beaming as you do.” Now his lips twitched in a wry smile. “I tried to count.”

“I stopped when I got to twenty.”

“What are you doing here, Sansa?” he asked, watching her with hooded eyes, arms crossed over his chest.

Sansa leaned closer to the table between them and he returned her gaze without flinching, slightly raising his chin as if he was daring her to look closely.

Out of the uniform and in his dark blue shirt, Deputy Bolton looked like an ordinary guy. He was still heavily built, still a bit stocky. His eyes, narrowed as they were, were still striking. He had shaved, so the sharpness of his features was more noticeable and he wasn’t as approachable looking as before. Those deep shadows under his eyes were almost gone in the soft lighting in the Café. Maybe he had had a good night’s sleep for once. Without the hat, Sansa could clearly see that his hairline has begun to recede and that he was slowly graying.

What was she doing? Did he expect her to actually know? As the silence between them grew, Deputy Bolton’s eyes turned cold and he nodded.

“See? Really, Sansa, you shouldn’t kiss random men when the fancy strikes you. What would your father say?”

He was putting himself back into the category of fatherly figures. Sansa definitely didn’t like that. No way. She wanted him in firmly placed in the category of handsome fuckable guys and if all that failed… Maybe he would do well in the good friends section. She had known Deputy Bolton for such a long time and sitting here, watching the sadness seep back into every line of his face… No, she couldn’t allow that.

She shook her head, placing her hand on the table palm up. He turned his gaze toward her hand, looking puzzled for a moment before his face smoothed out and he raised an eyebrow at her.

It was stupid of her to expect him to take it. Deputy Bolton wasn’t that type… But to her surprise, he leaned forward and very slowly placed his hand palm down on top of hers. Sansa closed her eyes momentarily when she felt the warmth and roughness of his skin and wrapped her fingers around his.

“I have no idea what I’m doing. Do you?” she asked, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Then Sansa loosened her hold but before she could slip her hand free, Deputy Bolton gripped her fingers tightly for a moment.

“Not in the slightest,” he said gruffly, glancing up at her. There it was again, the softening in his gaze, something delicate and gentle entering his eyes as he looked at her. It made her feel good. Very good.

There was only a brief moment of silence before he huffed out and released her hand. “So, coffee, then?”

“Maybe we can even manage the promised conversation?”

“If you’re sure you’re up to it.” The small smile he gave her made Sansa’s heart beat like crazy and she couldn’t stop herself from beaming at him yet again.

So converse they did. Well, Sansa did most of the talking, really, when he asked her about her studies and her plans for the future and how life was down in King’s Landing and what mischief the Stark brood got up to while their poor parents’ backs were turned.

Deputy Bolton seemed to enjoy listening to her voice. Sansa suspected him of zoning out several times but he proved to her that he paid close attention with every inquisitive question he asked. Sansa obliged happily. However, he just didn’t like talking too much about himself, citing that life in Winterfell was very monotone and there wasn’t much he could contribute to their conversation. She didn’t want to seem too pushy, so she never pressed when he avoided answering some personal questions (she knew that Ramsay was a sore subject and Domeric preferred to live with his mother).

There was so much to talk about that one date wasn’t enough, actually.

Since arriving home, Sansa talked with Deputy Bolton almost every day. There was that one lunch during his break, and that quick dinner when she was so fed up with her brothers that she simply had to stomp out of the house. He saved her from starvation that evening. They exchanged numbers eventually, so he called during one particularly boring night shift and they spent half an hour on the phone. She saw him once or twice around the station when she dropped by to say hi to Dad (well, Deputy Bolton, in reality, but there was no need to advertise that).

The rest of Sansa’s days were filled with the insanity that was Christmas preparations. She helped Mum with last-minute shopping and baking and decorating. She visited with friends and relatives. Sansa spent an evening giggling with Jayne and two afternoons fighting with the Karstark branch of the family over trivialities.

During all that time, Deputy Bolton stayed firmly on her mind. As the days filled with laughter and warmth and family passed, she realized that she liked to spend time with him. She liked him. It went beyond the initial physical attraction; Sansa was simply comfortable in Deputy Bolton’s presence – warm, safe, content. How strange.

She also thought that she was subtle about the whole thing. She was dreadfully wrong.

It was the evening before Arya and Robb were supposed to get home when Dad knocked on her bedroom door. “Hey, Sans. Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah, sure, come in.” She rolled from her back and sat up while Dad shuffled inside her room, closed the door and gave her a stilted smile as he crossed to the bed. He sat down next to her and tried to peer at the screen of her phone.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“No, it’s fine. What’s the matter?” Sansa put the phone away and smiled at him.

“Well, this will be awkward no matter how I start, so I’ll just drop it on you and we’ll move from there, ok?” he grimaced and then he shook his head. “Honestly, I think your mother would know what to say without looking like an idiot but I felt like I needed to cover this one myself…”

So, it would be one of those talks. Sansa smirked. “Just tell me. The suspense is killing me.”

“Right.” He took a deep breath and his warm gaze settled on Sansa. “It’s about Roose and you.”

Whatever Sansa had been expecting, that wasn’t it. She could feel her cheeks reddening as she spluttered, “What? What about me and Deputy Bolton?”

Oh, Gods. She didn’t know how to respond. Sansa rarely talked about dating with her parents and her Dad definitely wasn’t the one she would choose for that. Since the fiasco with Petyr, Sansa hadn’t felt like talking to her Mum about men either but this was going to be painful.

Glancing up at Dad’s uncomfortable grimace, she supposed that there was more to this conversation. He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.

How could she describe what was happening when she hadn’t had the slightest idea? Deputy Bolton had not asked her to call him by his given name, they weren’t there quite yet. There hadn’t been any more pecks on the cheeks and only two or three half-hugs in greeting and maybe some accidental hand squeezing (Sansa kind of liked his rough strong hands).

It was so different from all of her other experiences with dating. Deputy Bolton was very guarded and while she hoped that he liked her back, she really couldn’t be sure.

Dad heaved a deep sigh.

“Well, Sam talked to me the other day, and then I chatted with Mr. Luwin and he mentioned seeing the two of you having lunch together, and Jory said that you brought my usually brooding deputy some snacks the last time you were at the station. Jory was a bit sore at you about it for not bringing _him_ any because he thought that he’s your favorite deputy.” He smiled at her and shrugged. “And I’m not saying this to berate you, sweetheart. I’d just like to know if something is going on between you two because you’re my favorite daughter and he’s my friend.”

“Arya’s your favorite daughter,” said Sansa drily.

“Arya’s my favorite son.” He chuckled. “Don’t let the boys hear that or they’ll get offended.”

They both sniggered and most of the embarrassment evaporated. Still, it was strange to talk with Dad of all people about Deputy Bolton… But she understood why they needed to do it.

Taking a deep breath, Sansa said, “Well, it’s complicated. I think I like your deputy but I’m not sure what to do about it… Are you… Are you angry?”

“Angry at you for maybe liking Roose?” Her father shook his head. “I can’t say I’m thrilled about it but angry? Of course not. He isn’t some southern sissy with a midlife crisis but one of the people I trust to have my back in a shootout. You are a big girl, too, and capable of making your own decisions…”

Dad trailed off for a moment.

“I guess that I’m trying to say that you should be one hundred percent sure of what you want to happen with one of my best friends. Don’t get me wrong, I will break every bone in his body if he hurts you but… He’s a bit, uh, fragile right now.”

“Deputy Bolton?” repeated Sansa, eyes wide. _Fragile_ was not the word she would ever use to describe the man and it somehow felt ridiculous to even use it in the same sentence. Yet Sansa frowned as she thought about it. There was something about the misery that seemed to be stifling him every now and then, the grief, those shadows under his eyes.

“It’s not really my place to say.” Her father looked away and nodded to himself. “My deputy has been through a lot in the last few months and I would hate to see either of you hurt.”

It took Sansa a moment to actually realize what was happening. Her father was here both as her Dad making sure she knew what she was doing and as a good friend to Deputy Bolton to warn her off if she was just playing with the man.

She had put them all into a difficult situation, hadn’t she?

Knowing that something had hurt Deputy Bolton so much made her want to call him right now just to hear that he was ok. It also brought into focus one thing. There was potential for so much more between them than their tentative friendship. Sansa wanted to have the right to call him even late in the evening and drop by the station to say hi to him without pretending that she was visiting Dad. She wanted to see his eyes darken and pupils dilate as she kissed him again – and not only on the cheek.

She wanted to give it her best shot.

Looping her arms around her father in a loose hug, she mumbled into his shoulder, “Thanks, Dad. I won’t mess this up.”

“So, you’ve made up your mind?”

“Yeah, I like Deputy Bolton quite a lot,” she said with a small grin. “And don’t worry, I’ll try not to break your friend. Just promise me that you will let us figure it out between ourselves before you start interfering some more.”

“Uhm, well.” Dad wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her before dropping a kiss into her hair. “It’s a bit late for that. I’ve talked with Roose about you this afternoon.”

“Dad!” Sansa jumped up. “Oh, Gods! What did you tell him? Why did you do it?”

“What? It’s every father’s prerogative to inform their daughters’ potential boyfriends of the consequences of hurting their precious little girls.”

“You warned him off, too? Did you give him the ‘I’ll have a shotgun, a shovel, and an alibi’ talk?” Sansa buried her face in her hands. Harry Harding had broken up with her a week after she had brought him over for the first time.

“No, of course… Roose helped me come up with that one – he was supposed to be that alibi. I resorted to the good old ‘I’ll break your jaw’ one.”

“Dad, don’t do that to me! This is the reason why I never bring my boyfriends for a visit. Exactly this!”

“Well.” He hurriedly stood up. “I’ll just leave you to calm down, Sans.”

Sansa flopped back down and put a pillow over her head, growling. Dad – and her brothers – always meant well but they had the uncanny ability to ruin her relationships. She just hoped that Deputy Bolton was made of sterner stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like a typical Stark Christmas, doesn’t it? I can see poor Sansa strangling her siblings with those Christmas lights really soon – if she doesn’t kill her father first. Let me tell you something, the talk Ned had with Roose was just as embarrassing as you think it was *grimaces*  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading the second part and stay tuned - more is coming soon *grins* Love, Mage :)
> 
> Next time in Silent Night: The big finale.  
> Next in the series: Chapter two of All I Want


	3. A Night Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat to the rescue... or in other words, all is well in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last part of my Roose/Sansa Christmas story. I hope you enjoy reading it :)

Sansa’s worries weren’t unfounded; she didn’t see or heard from Deputy Bolton for the next two days. Arya arrived at nine in the morning the next day and Robb shortly after five p.m. Sansa was the one who picked them both up from the airport to distract herself from thinking about the lack of communication from her favorite deputy.

She tried to call him in the evenings but Deputy Bolton didn’t pick up – and what was worse, he didn’t call her back. It was clear that he didn’t want to talk to her and the realization stung. He could at least tell her so. A simple text would do. This silence was rude.

Between all the jokes, teasing, arguing and screaming fits that filled the Stark household in the days leading up to Christmas, there really wasn’t time to visit Dad at the station. Sansa found it a convenient excuse – she wasn’t feeling brave enough to see Deputy Bolton and demand a talk with him. She felt like a teenager again, fretful and afraid, and she hated it.

She hated how not even arguing with her sister helped her to forget a pair of pale sad eyes. Since her talk with Dad, Deputy Bolton was constantly on her mind, always lurking at the back of her every thought. What was the reason why he had been dubbed fragile, the cause of his grief? Did he sleep enough? Eat? The man couldn’t be trusted to do either, as he had proved already with the shadows under his eyes and hollow cheeks.

It was ridiculous. She had been getting to know him for a week before the Talk. That’s seven days. It was insane. But was it, really? Before that, she had known Deputy Bolton for fifteen years and she had liked him even back then (without the complicated mess that was romantic feelings). With this silence, she wasn’t losing a possible lover, she was losing a good friend.

Dad had been right to worry. Then again, Dad had messed it up for her spectacularly.

If this would go on, Sansa would spoil the holidays for the rest of her family because she was sure to start moping around soon. She needed to get this sorted out and quickly. It was driving her crazy and even her siblings noticed that something was wrong. There was no real fire behind her words when they yelled at each other, and her smile didn’t quite make it into her eyes.

Jon and Robb had stopped teasing her altogether, Bran and Rickon were relatively mild in their banter with her and Arya had asked Sansa to help her with her hair in the morning. Arya hated doing anything with her hair but she had sat there and let Sansa pamper her for thirty minutes. _Thirty_. What proof of sisterly affection.

It was long after nightfall on Christmas Eve when Sansa found herself retreating to the attic. It had been her favorite hiding spot when she was a kid and she needed a few moments for herself. Just to be alone. She loved her family but it was sometimes too much, especially when she needed to think.

This couldn’t go on. Sansa decided to put on a cheerful faced for tomorrow and then go and confront Deputy Bolton. If he didn’t want to explore the possibilities between them, that was fine, but she wouldn’t allow him to blow off the years of friendship with the Starks. She needed to tell him that… and if the talk would turn unpleasant, Sansa was returning for one last semester to King’s Landing anyway. That should give them enough space.

“Sansa, honey?” Her mother poked her head inside. “Are you alright?”

She found Sansa sitting in the window, just staring out down at the cheerfully lit up street and joined her by the window.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Or I’ll be soon.” Sansa tried for a smile. “I just needed a minute.”

“Your father told me about his mess-up,” she said in a tight voice. “I asked him specifically to talk to you first before getting all protective and rushing to threaten one of his best friends. He’s dreadfully sorry and is planning on apologizing after dinner.”

“It really wasn’t Dad’s fault.” Sansa shook her head. Whatever Dad had said to him, Deputy Bolton was the one who had decided not to talk to her.

“So you’re not angry at your father?” Mum sat next to her and wrapped Sansa in a warm gentle embrace. “He meant well, of course, but we both know that Dad meaning well ends usually badly for all involved.”

“He’s a walking disaster. We’re lucky that the station is filled with more capable deputies, right?”

“Quite so.”

They shared a small laugh and Sansa felt much better. Resting her head against her mother’s shoulder, she heaved a sigh. Talking about the matters of the heart with Mum was so much more comfortable and less embarrassing than talking about it with Dad.

“Speaking of stations,” said her mother gently. “Roose has the nightshift. He managed to convince the rest of the boys to spend the evening with their families, so he’s quite alone there. I’m sure he would welcome some company. What could possibly happen in Winterfell on Christmas Eve after all?”

“Mum, are you trying to pair me off with Deputy Bolton?” asked Sansa with a smirk as she lifted her head to look at her mother. She couldn’t believe that both her parents were actually supportive of the possibility. It felt surreal, especially when she compared it to their reactions to her other relationships with older men.

“You could do so much worse than him, honey.” Mum sighed and raised her hand to touch her cheek. Sansa had the unpleasant feeling that she was thinking about how psycho Joff had turned out to be. “Roose is a steady, dependable man and we happen to like him a lot. He already is a part of the extended Stark family either way, and he’s not going to run for the hills screaming when subjected to the stupidity of your siblings and father. He’s used to that.”

“That counts as a plus, I take it?”

“Of course.”

There was a moment of silence in which Sansa mused about what her mother was trying to say. Her parents were okay with the possibility of a serious relationship between Sansa and Deputy Bolton. That was… That was actually a big relief. She was old enough to be looking for something serious, she even wanted that. Commitment. Family. One day.

“If our broody deputy is the reason why you are so despondent right now… if he makes your heart beat faster… and if he’s on your mind even when you’re angry at him – I can see that you are… Well. Then there’s something wonderful going on between you two. If you think that you want to give it a real try, then go to him. Otherwise, you will always look back and keep asking _what if_. That’s no way to live.”

“I have no idea if he thinks about me like that,” said Sansa and glanced away. “He doesn’t even want to speak to me right now.”

“In a relationship, someone has to be the brave one. It usually needs to be us, honey, because men are even in their thirties, forties or fifties just slightly overgrown children.” She winked at her and rose to her feet. “I’ll pack you something to eat for him. Gods know that the man isn’t eating enough since… Well, I’ll be downstairs.”

With that, Mum patted Sansa’s shoulder and left for the kitchen.

It didn’t take long for Sansa to make up her mind. She grabbed her coat and gloves quickly, borrowed Jon’s car keys and sneaked into the kitchen. With a bright smile, Mum passed her a hefty paper bag decorated with dancing reindeers.

“I’ll let your father know that you’re out,” she mouthed softly. “Good luck, honey.”

Sansa gave her a quick hug and then she was on her way. It was an excruciatingly long drive – the road was covered in ice and she needed to be careful. Her heart was pounding faster and faster with every passing minute but she was strangely calm and collected as she parked in front of the brightly lit station.

She tried the door first but it was locked. With her teeth chattering in the night air, she rang the bell twice and waited in silence. It was snowing again and she hoped that Deputy Bolton would hurry up, otherwise he would find only a snowwoman instead of Sansa standing at the door.

He paused as he saw her through the glass, but then he shook his head and unlocked the door.

“What in the seven hells are you doing here in this weather, Sansa?” he asked calmly. Worry crept up into his eyes. “Is everything ok at home?”

“Everything is almost fine. I just brought dinner,” she said equally collected voice and offered him a small smile. “Can we go in? I’m freezing.”

Deputy Bolton frowned but he stepped aside and ushered her in with his hand lingering at the small of Sansa’s back. He locked the door again and they made their way into the office.

He pulled out a chair for her and then moved to sit behind his desk. His face was as impassive as ever and he focused on watching her unpack the food. Mum had given her a bit of everything, including deserts and gingerbreads – and packed even paper napkins, paper plates, and plastic forks.

“As much as I appreciate the delivery, you didn’t have to bother.”

Sansa watched him from the corner of her eye and frowned when she noticed that the shadows under his eyes seemed darker than ever before. The stubble was back. In the harsh light inside the office, he looked worn out, pale and almost sick.

“I think I had to. You see, there’s this guy who is not returning my calls and I really need to talk to him.” Sansa took a deep breath before raising her face to look straight at him. “It’s Christmas Eve and he’s stuck at work, the poor man, so I brought him dinner thinking that we could talk.”

He seemed to be surprised by her words and shifted in his seat. Then, to her shock, he turned his face away and closed his eyes briefly before glancing back at her. “I’m sure he regrets not returning the calls if it made you brave the snow and ice outside.”

“Does he?” Her movements stilled and she let go of the paper napkins she had been holding tightly. “Just because of the weather?”

“Because it was impolite of him, too.”

“So why did he do it?”

Deputy Bolton shifted again and leaned over the desk, helping her set up the plates and containers of food. He then swallowed and took a hold of her hands.

Sansa stopped breathing at the contact. Her eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his large warm hands covering her smaller ones, at the gentle but firm grip.

“I needed a few days to think,” he said. “Your father had had a little chat with me and I wasn’t ready to talk to you without having answers to some of his questions first.”

“Yeah, Dad sat me down for a little chat, too. You can’t imagine how embarrassing it was.”

Sansa opened her eyes and grinned when she noticed that Deputy Bolton was smiling faintly, his eyes rather bright.

“Oh, believe me, I can imagine that just fine.”

Sansa desperately wanted to know what had been those questions and what were Deputy Bolton’s answers but she was afraid of them at the same time. He could be holding her hands to let her down gently. But he was so tender – dare she say sweet – for that… Right?

Brave. Someone had to be brave here and she wasn’t about to stop now. Taking a deep breath, she asked, “So, what are those answers, Deputy Bolton?”

His gaze flitted between her eyes and then he let go of her and stood up. Rounding the desk, he grasped Sansa’s forearms to pull her to her feet. Sliding his hands down her arms, he smiled and then settled them on her waist.

“No, I haven’t kissed you yet. It’s something I plan to rectify in a moment.”

“Oh, do you?” It sounded like a splendid idea.

“Yes.” He searched her eyes. “Unless you object?”

“Not at all… That was the first thing Dad asked you? Really?!”

“It was more along the lines whether or not had I been making out with his little girl.” Deputy Bolton snorted.

He wore his usual cologne, a heady mix that still reminded her of pine trees, and Sansa had to resist the urge to hide her face in his chest in embarrassment. Gods, what a temptation it was. But looking into his eyes and that warmth she found in them was much better.

“Can I get that kiss now, please?”

Deputy Bolton didn’t answer. He leaned in instead, pulling her closer to him. Her heart stopped beating in anticipation, she held her breath. Then his lips brushed against hers softly, slowly, and Sansa’s eyes closed as a breathy sigh escaped her and she felt her heartbeats returned to a somewhat normal rhythm. 

“I’m not some green boy who is stupid enough to let a good thing slip through his fingers. I play for keeps. To answer Ned’s other question, my intentions toward you are serious, Sansa,” he said softly, his breath ghosting over her skin. “If that’s what you also want, of course… I was coming to your house to ask you in the morning.”

Sansa blinked her eyes open to look at him. Deputy Bol-Roose. It was high time to start calling him by his given name. Roose was watching her affectionately, the look in his eyes soft and vulnerable.

Giving in to the sudden impulse, she raised her hand and placed her palm against his cheek. His stubble was shorter than the last time she had done so, and rougher. She liked it. Sansa urged him to lean toward her again and when he did, she kissed him, moving her lips leisurely as he responded, matching her unhurried pace.

“I beat you to it,” Sansa whispered after the kiss ended.

“I can see that.” Roose wrapped his arms around her, breathing her in. “You Starks are not patient people by nature, hmm?”

“No, you can’t say that patience is our family trait.”

The unexpected sound of his laughter startled her. It resonated from deep within his chest and Sansa felt her own responding chuckle bubble out of her. Gathering her even closer, holding her tight for a moment, Roose rested his chin on her shoulder.

“This just answers Ned’s last question. I’ll risk it.”

The mood turned somber and Sansa trailed her hands down his back to link them around his waist loosely. She took a half step back so she could see his face.

Roose’s expression was solemn.

“What was Dad’s last question?”

“Can I let go of the past? Am I ready? Will you not unwittingly break what’s left of me?” He gazed at her for several long seconds, his pale striking eyes impossibly sad. Then he blinked, tried for a strained smile, and that darkness in his expression lifted. “I’ll risk it. I’ll give you my best.”

“Something has happened, hasn’t it?” Sansa was still not willing to push but the simple truth was that she needed to know now. There was a reason for this, for her parents’ allusions to something terrible and their worries, for Roose’s lack of sleep and his grief and his unwillingness to talk about himself.

He nodded, stepped away from her completely and gestured for her to sit back into her chair. She watched him, as he disappeared in the next room and heard him moving around. When he returned to her line of sight, he was carrying a bottle of apple cider and two plastic cups.

He uncapped the bottle and started to pour her a cup. A distinct tremor ran through him and he grimaced.

“Will you tell me about it?” she asked gently as she stilled his hands, taking the bottle and the cup from his grasp.

“It’s not a pleasant topic.” He collapsed into his seat and glanced out of the window. Sansa followed his gaze but she only saw their own reflections in the glass. Roose still looked exhausted and the mirror Sansa was wearing a worried expression.

“I’m afraid it will ruin the mood even more.”

“It wouldn’t. We’ve just agreed to give us our best shot, haven’t we? If you want to talk, I’ll listen. Gladly. Sharing what’s eating your heart out won’t change what has happened but maybe it will help you sleep better at nights.” Sansa stood up from her chair and came to stand next to him. “Even if there wasn’t anything more between us, I would want to know. I would want to help.”

Roose didn’t need any more prompting. He released a long breath and then the words tumbled out. Once he started, he couldn’t stop. Sansa brought one hand to her mouth in shock, her other one gripped his shoulder tightly, and she listened as she had promised. His eyes, full of anguish, were directed to the floor and only when the whole terrible truth was out, he looked up at her.

When he did so, Sansa leaned down and wrapped him in her arms, crying the tears that Roose seemed unable to shed. For Domeric, his pride and joy – and for Ramsay, who awaited his execution for his brother’s murder.

She didn’t know how long they stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, giving and receiving comfort in equal measure. At one point, Roose pulled her into his lap, burying his face in her fiery hair. Sometime later, she laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

The next thing she knew, the lights were out and she was snuggled under a familiar smelling jacket on the sofa in her father’s office and it was long after midnight.

She rose and tiptoed to the window. The snow was falling heavily and the world was a place consisting of only its white and warm orange glow of streetlamps. All was silent and still. Magical almost.

She heard his footsteps first and the door creaked open, a strip of light cutting through the darkness of the office. A moment later, he stopped behind her and his hands fell on her shoulders. As they trailed down in a slow caress, Roose’s voice rumbled, “How are you feeling? Are you alright?”

“Are you?”

He embraced Sansa, his arms sneaking up from behind her, his hands resting on her stomach. A heavy breath left his body and she felt him shudder as his forehead pressed against her back briefly. “I believe I will be.”

“Me too.” Sansa laced their fingers together and leaned against him. He was solid, her steady and dependable Deputy Bolton, and he was warm and soft and utterly human.

After a moment of silence, he asked her, “What are you thinking about?”

Sansa smiled and her gaze roved around the empty street for a moment. Then she glanced up, toward the sky. There were so many things she could be thinking about but she found herself mulling over only one little idea, a bright spark in the darkest of nights, a flame chasing away all the cold of the northern winter.

“I’m thinking that on a night like this, I could fall in love.” Turning, she returned the embrace before looking earnestly into his startled eyes. “Happy Christmas, Roose.”

“Happy Christmas, Sansa.” His response was a soft whisper in the night, and his kiss a gentle breath of air against her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so we got a glimpse of that talk with Ned after all *grins* I wonder if he had his shotgun casually slung over his shoulder… If he had, I’m sure that Roose wasn’t impressed much by it.  
> I’m not fond of Ramsay at all. I wasn’t sure if I should include the reason why Roose was so miserable but then it seems to fit right in, so here we are… Sorry if it ruined the mood. Ramsay always ruins everything *shudders*  
> Anyway! I hope you all had great holidays and I’d like to wish you a happy New Year! Love you all, Mage :)

**Author's Note:**

> I’m pretty sure I’ve seen Mr. McElhatton in some horror movie playing a cop and I can totally see Roose Bolton being quiet and broody law enforcement officer who goes around making sure that nothing gets in the way of his personal motto of “a peaceful land, a quiet people.” I couldn’t resist a little bit of angst in this one but it’s nothing serious. It’s almost Christmas, after all, so I won’t be spoiling the mood too much :)  
> Love you all and don’t forget to check out the first part in the Christmas series “Jingle Bells” *winks* It’s adorable if I may say so myself (or it will be when I’m finished with it).  
> Next time in Silent Night: It’s a date!   
> Next in the series: “All I Want For Christmas Is You”


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